Daddy-O Part 3

[part 1 here]

[part 2 here]

Ford had pulled his garage out of his truck and was ready to hit the gas–driving ANYWHERE but his house–when he saw Alex trailing after him. A moment before the garage door slammed down, Alex (in his newly small and spritelike body) scooted out from beneath it and ran toward the truck, waving his hands wildly. Ford sighed, hit the brakes, and unlocked the doors.

Alex had as much trouble climbing into the truck as Ford had. This was their lives now, now over a foot shorter than they were supposed to be. Alex, sweating and out of breath, slapped Ford’s shoulder. The impact was laughably light.

“You were gonna LEAVE me there?” Alex snapped, crossing his arms. “With THEM?”

Ford shook his head as he started driving. “You seemed perfectly happy hanging out with your new buddy Collin,” he said through gritted teeth.

The past twenty-four hours had been mindblowing for both of them. Since their shift in bodymass, Dwight and Collin had begun talking about Ford and Alex while they were in the room without acknowledging them–like they were pets. Ford had bristled while the two younger men (who couldn’t stop flexing since their stolen muscles) shopped online for outfits for Ford and Alex to wear while they were stuck in their newly diminutive bodies.

“I’m not letting you SHOP for me,” Ford had insisted, stomping his foot, but the two massive men just ignored him and picked out little polos and khakis. When the clothes arrived, they were the only option the smaller men had. Ford and Alex looked like they were going door to door spreading the Mormon faith now.

“You can’t just eat all my food and walk around my house like you own it!” Ford had snapped, but Dwight had casually shoved him out of the way as he lumbered to the fridge. Later, he caught Collin in his home gym, heavily dropping his 100 pound dumbbells and leaving the bench covered in his sweat. “You have to respect this gym or you won’t be using it!” Collin just laughed and PATTED HIM ON THE HEAD, heading to the shower without another word.

Meanwhile, Alex had become the step-and-fetch for Collin, getting him beers from the fridge, rubbing sunscreen on his big back and even prepping his meals. “I figure you know how to eat like a bodybuilder more than I do!” Collin kept saying, and Alex stacked up tupperware containers with chicken and rice without a complaint.

Ford wondered how long it would be before Collin and Alex were fucking–if they hadn’t already. It was all he could think of as he drove.

“Where are we going?” Alex asked.

“The bar,” Ford said. “I want to get wasted. Shouldn’t be too hard at this size.”

“You’re not gonna drive home drunk,” Alex said.

“Maybe I’ll find someone to take me home with them,” Ford said with a shrug.

“Oh, really? We get held hostage and your first priority is to go fuck somebody?”

“We’re not held hostage,” Ford said with a grimace. “They let us leave, didn’t they? We could call the cops, call whatever science department they stole their formula from and report them, but for some reason they’re totally fine letting us leave and do whatever we want. Like we don’t matter to them at all.”

Alex was quiet for a moment, his eyes darting around as he started to work things out. “Wait, why AREN’T we doing that?”

Ford shrugged. “I know Dwight. That boy is smart as a whip, and meticulous. We can’t think of something he didn’t plan for. If he’s fine letting us out of his sight, it’s because he’s covered all of his bases. So we may as well just wait it out.”

He pulled into the parking lot of the Tin Soldier, a gay bar nestled between craft breweries and tapas bars in the hipster part of town. Alex started panicking as he realized where they were.

“You’re going to the SOLDIER? But they know us here! I’m not going in there!”

Ford reached out and steadied his anxious ex with one hand. “Babe,” he said. “Look at us. Look at our faces: baby-fucking smooth, like we can’t even grow beards. Look at our bodies: all skin and bones. An average guy could squash us with one hand. Nobody is even going to look twice at us, let alone believe we’re the same guys they used to let drink for free and gogo dance from time-to-time.”

Alex snorted. “I’VE never gogo danced here,” he said as he stumbled from the truck and hustled to keep up with Ford. As they approached the door, a taller man breezed past them and opened it without even acknowledging their presence. He loomed over them, but Ford suddenly realized the guy was probably only about 5’8” tall. God, guys are so much hotter at this size, Ford suddenly realized.

Skip, the bartender who had been buying them both drinks for years, barely even glanced at them as they took stools at the bar. “Hey guys,” he said. “Special on peach-passionfruit martinis tonight.”

Ford smirked as he saw Alex considering the offer. “I’ll take one,” he said with a devilish grin. Normally, Alex would have demanded a beer and shot of whisky–”No fruity shit!”--but apparently, with his change in stature, he was allowing himself to try new things.

“Me too,” Ford said. They both chuckled at the neon-colored martini glasses that ended up in front of them. They even clinked their glasses before taking a sip. Ford felt a moment of self-consciousness as he remembered the gargantuan brute of a man he used to be–a man who would have rolled his eyes at these two twinks giggling about their fancy cocktails–but he felt a freedom in his new form. Skip truly had no idea who they were. Until Dwight changed them back, why not enjoy it?

“I’m going to be drunk after this,” Alex said after a few sips, his eyes wide.

Ford took a deep breath; he was already feeling the buzz. In a few sips, he wasn’t going to be able to hold in the thoughts swirling around his head. He took another sip, glanced around the bar–good lord, the crowd at the Soldier looked WAY hotter than usual!--and decided to just let it rip.

“Are you fucking Collin?” Ford asked. Alex’s face went red.

“Are you actually asking me that?”

“I noticed you didn’t say, ‘No,’ to that.”

“Jesus,” Alex said. “I guess I let myself forget what a fucking asshole you can be. NO I’m not fucking the guy who did this to us! How could you even… I mean… why would you even…”

“You’ve been his little servant since he did this to us,” Ford accused. He gulped down the remaining half of his martini and ordered another one. “Took you all of two seconds to find another guy to devote yourself to.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt regret. This was something he’d dealt with during their relationship: pressure would build in him until he jabbed hard with his words, but the minute he had vented he felt immediate regret despite the fact that the damage was done.

“This all happened to me because of you,” Alex snapped back.

Ford let his head drop–and as he did so, he looked down at his body. He was scrawny and smooth–not an ounce of muscle on him. A stiff breeze would blow him over! He flexed his arms, completely dissatisfied with the fact that they didn’t look any different relaxed.

“I’m sorry,” Ford said. “Really, truly I am.” He turned and put a hand on Alex’s delicate shoulders. He giggled–something entirely unlike the REAL Ford–and stroked his ex-boyfriend’s narrow back.

“I don’t even want to be in public,” Alex said. “Looking like this… it’s like I’m the scrawny guy who used to get beat up again. I worked hard to get away from that.”

“It’s temporary,” Ford said.

“Are you sure? Do you even know if they can turn us back?” Alex said. “I feel like you haven’t asked ANY questions since this happened!”

“My son’s not gonna leave us like this,” Ford said, although his stomach seized at the sudden realization that he wasn’t as sure as he was trying to sound.

“What are we going to do if we’re stuck like this? If those two punks run around with OUR muscles for the rest of our lives?!”

Ford suddenly became aware that they were being watched. He turned and saw a towering blond with curly hair regarding them with a bemused smirk. He elbowed the bartender and the two snickered. “Check it out!” he said to the man pouring his drink. “Twink drama is my kink. Fucking love when little couples go at it!”

“Hey, fuck you!” Ford barked back. He’d meant it as a tough command, but it came out a whiny plea. “We’re not a couple anyway.”

The tall blond approached Ford with a smile. “Oh, really? Well, if that’s the case, why don’t you ditch your whiny friend and come hang out with me?”

Ford gave the blond a middle finger. “Right here, pal,” he said, once again failing to sound tough. “Take a hike. Neither of us is in the mood for anyone else’s company tonight.”

“I think you’re speaking for yourself, little guy!” the blond said. Ford’s head cocked to the right to see Alex being led away from the bar by the hand by a burly man with a beard. Alex turned back, shrugged, and started dancing with his new friend.

“That didn’t take long,” Ford said, deflated. The blond took Alex’s seat and extended a hand.

“I’m Walter,” he said. His hand was HUGE compared to Ford’s.

“Jesus, how tall are you? 6’5”?” Ford asked. Walter chuckled.

“I’m 6’1”,” he said; significantly shorter than Ford had been before this all happened to him. Ford looked up at the guy, examining his sinewy limbs, his cute dimples, his blue eyes… Walter’s attention may not have been a bad thing.

“How old are you?” Ford asked.

“25,” Walter replied. “You?”

Ford chuckled. “Old enough to be your dad. Literally.”

“What are you? 28? 29?”

Ford laughed. He signaled to the bartender for another drink. “Fine, let’s go with that.” He turned around and glanced into the increasingly crowded dancefloor. He could barely make out the top of Alex’s head, still dancing with his new guy, who ground his crotch into Alex’s chest. He shook his head, then looked up at Walter.

“Y’know, I oughta punch you in the balls for the way you talked about me and my friend a second ago,” Ford said.

“But you’re not,” Walter said, gently elbowing Ford in his bony ribs. “Hey, I was just teasing because I thought you were cute. I hate it when little guys date other little guys. What’s a dude my size supposed to do?”

Ford looked Walter up and down. He seemed SO big, his shoulders so broad, his limbs SO thick… but Ford reminded himself that when things went back to normal, he could throw this cute stud over his shoulder and carry him off. “You’re not THAT big,” Ford said.

“Well, I am where it COUNTS,” he said, reaching over to gently grab Ford’s hand. “May I?” he asked with a sweet smile.

Ford shrugged. “Fuck, why not?” He let Walter guide his hand to his package, which seemed MASSIVE. Ford wasn’t sure if it was his current perspective or not, but after a moment of holding the heft of Walter’s bulge in his hand, he decided, “Who gives a fuck?” He gave the bulge a squeeze and Walter winked at him.

“Want to dance?” Walter said.

Ford blushed. Before Walter had finished his sentence, he had been prepared to blow Walter in the bathroom–an impulse that gave him the chills. Was this who he was without his size, just a submissive little cocksucker? He chugged down his drink. “Fuck it, let’s go!”

Walter lifted Ford off the stool with ease and they went to the dancefloor together. Ford couldn’t believe it; he’d been to that exact dancefloor a dozen times, but usually he was head and shoulders above the crowd, the center of attention. It felt wild to be so short he couldn’t see through the bodies around him!

He gyrated against Walter, basking in the humidity and the bodyheat, losing himself to the music. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he hadn’t been turned into a twink… and when the booze in his belly hit his bloodstream, he started to forget his situation entirely.

Sweat was raining down on him from above. Bodies were bumping into him from all sides. He needed a drink, and some air, badly. He glanced up at the men around them; none of them were Walter. He fought for the edge of the dancefloor, sucked in the cool air of the open space, and climbed back up into his stool on his bar. His clothes were soaked, his hair shellacked against his head.

“Where’s your dude?” the bartender asked. Ford shrugged. He wasn’t sure if he was referring to Walter or Alex, but he couldn’t find either. It took him a moment to locate Walter, now dancing with another guy–someone his height. The two were making out furiously, gripping wildly at each other’s clothes.

“Ah, well,” Ford said, marinating in the feeling of rejection. He’d only known Walter for a short time, but he had forgotten what it was like to be ditched for someone else. He’d always been the one to do the ditching.

“Start a tab or close it out?” the bartender asked with Ford’s card in hand.

Ford’s eyes caught a glimpse of Alex heading toward the door with his big beefy friend. “Uh–close it out,” he said. He hastily scribbled his name on the slip and headed for the door.

In the parking lot he shouted Alex’s name and ran as fast as his short legs would take him. He barely caught up to Alex as they were getting in a familiar looking Jeep. “Alex, what the fuck?” Ford shouted.

The big guy had already started the engine. Alex was climbing in the passenger side door.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Alex stared back, bleary eyed and clearly still angry with Ford. “Why the fuck do you care?” he slurred.

“Alex, you can’t just take off with some dude you’ve never met!” Ford said.

“What am I supposed to do? Go back to your house? You don’t fucking own me, Ford.”

Ford took a deep breath. Alex was clearly drunker and angrier than he’d realized.

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said before, but we really shouldn’t just be going off until the guys set everything back the way it’s supposed to be.” He grabbed Alex by the wrist. Alex jerked away.

“I’m not gonna hang around and let you just sling accusations at me,” Alex said.

The driver of the jeep leaned across the car. “Either in or out, bud. Your call. I can find someone else.”

The voice sounded familiar to Ford. He felt goosebumps on his neck. It took him a moment for his eyes to focus enough to see the big bearded man staring down at them.

It was Marco–the guy Ford had cheated on Alex with. He was the reason they weren’t together anymore.

“Sonuvabitch,” Ford said, his eyes going wide. Alex had never seen Marco before. Clearly Marco didn’t recognize Ford in his reduced state. “Alex, you can’t go with him,” he said.

“Why the fuck not? Jealous?” Marco barked back. He stroked his beard, patted his firm muscle gut, and winked. “You wanna join us? There’s enough of me to go around for both of you.” He made his thick arms bounce, straining the seams of his tight polo shirt.

“Fuck,” Ford said as he felt his little dick shoot to attention. He let go of Alex’s hand, and just before the door closed, he slipped into the passenger seat with his ex. They were both skinny enough to fit.

“Are you seriously coming with us?” Alex whispered as Marco leaned over and pulled the seatbelt around them both, buckling them in.

“Fuck yeah,” Ford said. He reached across the car and put his hand on Marco’s thigh. “Good god, this thing is big as hell! You one of those gym guys who’s always squatting?”

“I do more than squat,” Marco said, firing up the engine. He reached across and rubbed his thumb against Ford’s cheek, then Alex’s. “You little guys are going to have a BLAST with me tonight.”

“It doesn’t have to be both of us,” Alex protested, shoving Ford away. “HE can get out, y’know.”

“Nah,” Marco said. “Now that I’ve got two, I want BOTH of you. Can’t wait to have both of you riding on daddy’s lap.”